Denny's Diner
by Fudgyokra
Summary: The interstate whisked them out of Colorado, far, far away from po-dunk South Park. From home.


**Denny's Diner**

The road that would take them to their future was not exactly beckoning but nonetheless faded with use, and it stretched endlessly both behind and in front of their little white Hybrid. The interstate whisked them out of Colorado, far, far away from po-dunk South Park. From home.

Their new home in Seattle awaited them, smelling of rain and old record stores and coffee for miles around, Stan just knew it. He could taste it for all his excitement.

Kyle, although similarly satisfied at the prospective change of scenery, was currently grumbling in the passenger seat of Stan's car as he swatted boredly at the plastic peace sign that dangled from the rearview mirror. For the tenth time that night, he voiced his complaint: "I'm hungry as hell."

And for the tenth time that night, Stan replied: "I know."

There weren't many restaurant options in The Middle Of Nowhere, Colorado, but, finally, after hours of driving, their saving grace came in the form of a blue tourist sign advertising one gas station and one food establishment.

The redhead's nose wrinkled in disgust. "I am _not _eating at Denny's."

This was met first with a sigh, then with logical reasoning. "A) it's the only restaurant for, like, a hundred miles, and B) even if it wasn't, it'd be the only one open at one a.m."

Though the displeasure was obvious from the look on his face, Kyle couldn't exactly argue with those facts. Instead, he crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. His next words formed a demand for Stan to put in a different CD, that he could only take so much Willie Nelson in an hour, and why do you like this shit anyway, man?

Stan merely snorted, then complied with his picky best friend's wish by removing said CD. "All right, how about The Monkees?"

"No."

"Beatles?"

"No."

"Peter Frampton?"

"Your music sucks ass, Stan."

"Okay, Smashmouth it is."

Kyle bit back a smile. He hated to admit that he really did love that band, so Stan had pretended to be the one that liked them when they'd bought the disk from an old shop back when they were little. To this day, they still acted like he was the one who enjoyed it most. Stan didn't mind.

The music was turned up in order to mask the sound of Kyle's stomach growling, and this was how they spent the next ten minutes of their trip: with Smashmouth turned up loud on the stereo and the two of them singing (horribly off-key) until they finally parked in their designated diner's lot.

Stan killed the ignition, unbuckled, and grabbed his ratty old puffball hat, which had previously been atop Kyle's head. "Ready to eat some shitty breakfast food?"

"Absolutely not, you disgusting oaf."

"Love you, too, Kyle." He wondered for the hundredth time of his eighteenth year whether Kyle knew that he meant that in more ways than one.

The two of them entered the building with accidentally synchronized steps. Their knuckles brushed. The hostess asked them how they were doing, and Stan said "Fine" at the same time Kyle said "Hungry."

They were ushered into a dilapidated booth, then assigned a strikingly handsome waiter who offered them shitty black coffee, which they took. Kyle gripped his mug possessively; Stan started pouring half-and-half into his. "So," the latter began conversationally, "what're you getting when our hot waiter comes back?"

"Oh my God," Kyle said with a grin, "he was really hot. I'm not the only one who noticed!"

"I know what _I'm _getting, if you know what I mean."

Kyle laughed. "He's so not your type."

An awkward chuckle built in the dark-haired boy's throat, but it never made it out of his mouth and instead forced him to swallow hard. "Tch, like you know what my type is," he managed to return.

"You like people who take their grades too seriously."

Well, he wasn't wrong, Stan thought. Dating Wendy and having an out-of-the-blue three-week-long crush on Token sort of attested to that, not to mention his very deep-seated affection for the redhead that now sat across from him.

Eventually he replied, "Obviously I'm into more than just that."

"Obviously, huh?" Kyle leaned across the table, hands still cupped around his mug. "Does that mean you have a _crush?_"

Stan put off having to answer by taking a quick, scalding gulp of his coffee, and soon after, their waiter returned to take their orders. Kyle persisted in his questioning for a few moments more after the man had left, but once the food arrived, their discourse was promptly forgotten, fading into the sounds of clinking silverware and griddles sizzling in the background.

When their meal was finished, Kyle sighed and muttered, "I can't believe I had to eat waffles from Denny's. In the middle of the night, too."

"At least you're not hungry anymore."

"True."

"You know who would love this?" Stan asked, smiling almost impishly. Kyle couldn't help but smile back.

"Who?"

"The Goths."

Kyle laughed once. "Dude! Every time I think of them I think of this place."

"I know, right? And Village Inn."

"_God,_ those guys were pretentious as hell until, like, tenth grade."

"Yeah, but they're nice…in their own weird way."

Kyle shook his head, sending his curls bouncing. "You can't be serious."

"Well, they were all right, sometimes. They were people I could talk to."

The shorter boy's smile faded into a tiny quirk of the lips. "Oh, Stan."

Presently, Stan's heart skipped a beat. "They weren't as good as you guys, though. Well, better than Cartman."

"Definitely better than him."

These words marked both the end of the conversation and the waiter's return, so Kyle took that as his cue to go stand out front while Stan paid the bill. Just as he was about to leave as well, he was asked, "You guys going anywhere in particular?"

"Oh, uh, yeah. We're heading for a university in Seattle, actually."

"Nice. Hey, good luck, man. You'll have fun." The waiter handed Stan back his change and added, "Y'know, I met my first boyfriend while I was in college."

"Really?"

"Yep. We ended up going separate ways, though."

"Sorry to hear that."

"Ah, it's okay. Eventually The One will come along." Stan subconsciously cast a glance at Kyle through the window. "I was actually gonna ask you if you wanted to get something to eat sometime, but I can see you've got other things on your mind."

Stan shook himself out of thoughts he didn't realize he'd been lost in and blinked owlishly at the other. "Huh?"

"Believe me, I know that look."

The startled expression on the dark-haired boy's face gave way to a sheepish smile. "Oh, damn. I'm that obvious, huh?"

The waiter only smiled and offered him a wave before attending to his other tables, allowing Stan to make his way out into the chilly night with his hat in one hand. Beside the window, Kyle shivered and reached over for the hat without even looking. "Thanks," he mumbled as he headed to the car.

"No problem."

Once they were settled in their seats, Kyle said, "I saw you in there flirting with our waiter." He smiled, but it looked strange.

"Hey, _he _was flirting with _me_."

"Sure, dude."

"No, really! It was crazy. He said he was gonna ask me out to eat or something, but—"

"But what?" Kyle regarded him quizzically.

"I, uh, turned him down."

"_What? _Stan, he was hot."

"Yeah, but." Stan shrugged and started down the empty street. Behind them, the diner glowed.

"But what?"

"I mean, I'm sort of… I dunno, I'm waiting."

"For what?"

Should he lie? He felt like responsible eighteen-year-olds shouldn't be lying, but… "I'm not sure."

"Like hell you aren't," Kyle replied with a snort.

Right, the perks of being friends with someone for fourteen years included knowing, for the most part, when the other was lying. Shit.

Stan sighed. "I'm waiting for someone."

Kyle surprised him by responding, half masked by a yawn, with, "I know you are. I am, too."

"Who're you waiting for?"

The redhead chewed on his lip for a moment, then said, "I think it's sort of obvious."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Kyle smiled at him in a way that made all of his college anxieties temporarily fade away.

"Yeah," Stan repeated, perhaps a little breathlessly. He had to force himself to look back at the road.

He felt like something big had just happened—like something had fallen into place between them in the silence of their car as it drove them toward their soon-to-be home. Just a few seconds later, the road finally broke off into a new one.

Stan put his Willie Nelson CD back into the player, and Kyle smiled fondly just for a moment before falling asleep.


End file.
